Kamber trudged down the hall towards the elevator. It was early morning, but the dawn brought murky grey clouds over the city as it typically did.

She found her father at the breakfast table, engrossed in his handheld communicator.

"Good morning daddy," Kamber sat down across the table from him and one of the servants brought her a tray of breakfast; ulaetia eggs benedict and a selection of fruits, along with a steaming cup of coffee.

Madrigal looked up from his device. "Good morning," His tone was as formal as ever.

Kamber snuck a discreet peak at his screen. He was reading the news; an article on Dema's lack of security. The newspapers and online news networks were run by the lower class of Dema's citizens, and articles were often written deprecating the aristocratic parties.

"What are the journalists complaining about now?" Kamber ventured after taking a bite of her breakfast and a swig of coffee.

"The attack on Lord Newlins has drawn quite a bit of attention to Ethom in the media," Madrigal sounded quite disinterested in discussing the topic.

"I suppose everyone wonders how is supposed to keep the entire city safe if we can't even protect our own crown," Kamber thought aloud.

Madrigal nodded. "I'm not sure what to do about it."

"A press conference," Kamber offered. She never hesitated to bring up a solution towards her father's endeavours, after much encouragement from him on the matter. If she was going to take over as a chancellor of Ethom in the future, it was her responsibility to discipline herself for the task.

Madrigal grunted in agreement but said no more. Kamber could tell he was preoccupied, and chose not to ask about the thumb drive until he was in a better mood.

She'd have to do a bit of snooping on her own, which she'd enjoy wholeheartedly.

Their breakfast was concluded in silence.

• • • •

"Have a drink soldier," A cyboronic young woman laced her arms over Yaron's shoulders before he'd even had a chance to find a seat in the crowded bar.

"I'll take it sitting down if you don't mind," He smirked at her.

"I'll be right back." She turned and strutted over to the counter to order their spirits.

Yaron didn't recognize her, which was an odd feeling for him. He knew most of the girls who frequented this bar pretty well.

She returned with two tall flutes of a bubbling pink liquid, and Yaron accepted his absentmindedly. He was off for some reason, not even in the mood to strike up a good conversation with this striking young woman. He was still thinking about his meeting with Kamber.

She tangled one of her hands in her straight bob of white blonde hair as she spoke, and leaned one shoulder against the high table top. Her mechanical parts; her entire body not including her head and one of her arms, was seamlessly forged out of a smooth silver metal. She wore a dark red corset that wrapped around her entire waist and torso but had no sleeves.

"What's got you looking so worried? Loosen up," She said with a laugh as she playfully clinked her flute against his.

Yaron blinked and shook out of his momentary daze. "Sorry, I'm a little preoccupied with...work."

"You're a knight?" She inquired, eyeing the white streaks tattooed below his ear.

"More like an ex-knight." He replied vaguely, the corner of his lip curving.

"I like a man of mystery." She flirted with a squinting gesture of her cobalt eyes.

Yaron chuckled and took a drink of alcohol. The taste was sour and pleasant, like jumbar berries. The buzz that came with it however, was anything but pleasant. His head felt as if it were being squeezed by a clamp, and he felt uncontrollably drowsy. His vision darkened almost as soon as he'd swallowed the liquid.

"Guess that's what you get for accepting drinks from total strangers." The girl said with a victorious smile just before he passed out.

• • • •

Yaron awoke with a stinging sensation on his left cheek, and his eyes opened to see the young woman standing in front of him drawing back her hand as if she'd just slapped him. With a second more consideration to the pain in his face, he supposed that she had.

"Why am I here?" He demanded, struggling against metal restraints that held his arms at his sides. He suddenly realized he was tied against a large metal slab of some kind.

The girl laughed without humour. Her body language had completely changed from before; her attention seeking stance and sensual gaze had been replaced with a rigidly professional posture and cold eyes. "You'll find out."

"At least tell me your name sweetheart," He said, feigning a molasses-flavour over his voice.

"Ban N-31." She answered, leaning closer to his face.

"N-31, so you're a prototype of some kind?"

"A trainee Nix Fighter actually." Ban N-31 said, her voice playful but her face still stern.

"Ban, stop flirting with our hostage." A male voice interrupted. A man with greased back locks of dark brown hair and an angular face stepped forward.

"Yeah stop flirting." Yaron mimicked with a wink towards Ban N-31. She rolled her eyes.

"Who are you and why am I here?" Yaron faced the man, who appeared around his own age now that he was in proper light. Yaron noticed his fine attire; a leather jacket and perfectly tailored pants and shirt. He also took brief note of the two tiny holes on his breast pocket; where a Crown insignia had formerly resided.

"I need you to answer some questions if you don't mind."

"About what?" Yaron asked.

"The murder of Lord Newlins."

"Awe, Newlins Junior misses his daddy?" Yaron asked with a bitter-cold tone of mocking in his voice.

"What?" The man tried to feign confusion.

"You're wearing a black shirt and expensive clothes, meaning you're an Ethom aristocrat. You took of your insignia so I wouldn't notice but I did anyway."

"Wow." The Ethom drawled out the word with sarcasm.

"Not only that but you look pretty similar to all the pictures of Lord Newlins that have been in the news. Nice try, slicking your hair back to distract from the fact that you and your dad look almost exactly alike."

Newlins Junior looked distraught at being found out. "You're smarter then I gave you credit for. So please, now that you know who I am, just answer some questions."

"You'll let me go after?" Yaron inquired.

"That depends on your answers."

"Well then, proceed."

Ban N-31 stepped forward and Young Lord Newlins looked at his wristwatch, as if impatient. "What sector are you in?" The young cyborg asked.

"Sector doesn't matter anymore." Yaron countered. "Besides, you know I used to be Ethom."

"Fine, let me rephrase; what sector are you working for?"

"None of them."

"Do you have an organization you're working with?" Came the next question.

"No." That was only half true. The rebels didn't really qualify themselves as an "organization", but he most definitely had someone he was working with.

"Don't lie," Ban N-31 barked, her tone harsh for the first time.

"First of all, ouch. I may be a traitor but I'm no liar."

She narrowed her eyes. "Okay then traitor, why did you break into the Harlev estate?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Answer the question," she demanded.

"I was looking for something to snatch so I could make a little money, alright?" Yaron's voice bled with humiliation as if he were embarrassed to admit he'd been trying to steal something.

Ban N-31 stepped towards him again, evaluating him carefully. Yaron lowered his eyes, continuing the charade that he was a poor citizen driven to desperate measures in order to survive. As if he'd had to bend his morals in order to burglarize the Harlev estate.

"You want me to believe that you were ashamed at trying to steal something, yet you attacked the guards?"

"I didn't kill them," He defended. "I just needed an out."

She crossed her arms, her eyes still trained on his. "Fine. He's useless Lord Newlins," She said, turning to her master.

"One more thing." The dark haired aristocrat stepped towards Yaron. "If you're so desperate for money, how about I offer you an honest means of how to get it?"

"Like how?" Yaron asked, wary of his adversary, if he could even be called that.

"I'll hire you as a spy for Ethom. You clearly know what you're doing when it comes to breaking and entering, right?"

"How is that an honest means?" Yaron spat. "You guys are low, expecting me to fall for a stupid scheme like that."

Lord Newlins' brow lowered. "Let him go Ban."

She obeyed, entering the release code on the small panel of the restraint device. The metal cuffs holding him down released and folded back.

She led him to a back door of the building and shoved him outside without another word. The door slammed behind him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE
yikes, the amount of hype i felt for this chapter. i loved writing it.

for today's questions...
1:: what did you think of yaron's less then genuine means of getting freed from the hostage situation?

2 (random question):: if you were a mythical creature, which would you be and why?

for me personally, i'd probably be a dragon, or a shapeshifter of some kind. i feel like my temperament and sarcasm would fit one of those well haha.

so yeah that's about it for now, thanks for reading and if you'd vote and comment that'd mean a lot!